Mafia Days
by Makeste
Summary: A series of dumb humor one-shots featuring various characters and a general abundance of crack. Chapter Twelve: Squalo needs a dollar.
1. Twins

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or crotchety old men.

**Warnings: **Spoilers for the Inheritance Arc; if you don't know who these characters are yet, you probably shouldn't be reading this. Also, beware of general crack and stupidity.

**Summary: **It's not that the Ninth's guardians are completely useless; it's just that they don't really give a damn.

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**Mafia Days: Chapter One - Twins**

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**The phone rang just as Ganauche III was stepping out of the shower, wringing the excess water from his sexy mop of hair with a towel, his body freshly reinvigorated with the scent of Swagger by Old Spice. Wrapping another towel around his waist, he stepped into the bedroom and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Ganauche?" the old-man voice on the other end rasped.

"Coyote? Wow, long time no hear. What's up, Big Guy?" He always called Coyote 'Big Guy' even though Coyote was not in fact abnormally large (though he was at least a guy). He did this out of a deep-seated belief that any man with a gray shoulder-length mullet who went around with a name like Coyote Nougat ought to be referred to by some sort of nickname just on principle. And since Ganauche was not particularly good at coming up with nicknames (his specialties lay more along the areas of, I don't know, _kicking ass_), there it was.

"Bad news, I'm afraid," Big Guy said, sounding grim. Ganauche waited, expecting to hear something along the lines of 'my cane broke again.' Or some other old person problem.

"The boss has been kidnapped," Coyote said instead, and Ganauche had to admit, he was kind of taken by surprise.

Really taken by surprise, actually. "What?" he asked as he wrenched his towel back up to his waist from where it had gradually been sliding down to rest enticingly on his hips.

"I said, someone kidnapped the boss," Coyote repeated. "Xanxus, I think it was. And the Varia. Those fuckers."

"_When_ was this?"

"Um. Like… a few days ago, I guess?"

"—And you guys just let it happen?"

"Hey! In case you forgot, we're retired now, brat!"

"I would think something like the boss getting _fucking kidnapped_ would warrant coming out of retirement for a few days!"

"Well, we would have, if someone had actually bothered to tell us about it before now!"

Suddenly Ganauche had the stark, deer-in-headlights sensation that he'd just walked into a trap.

"Which brings me to the other reason I called. Ganauche… _why the hell weren't you there?_"

"Uh." He swallowed. "I was on vacation."

"On _vacation._"

"Yeah."

"In Tijuana."

How did he _know_—but wait, if he had called here, then of course he must have figured it out. "Yeah."

"_Why?_"

"…Because that's how I roll?"

"And who the hell was supposed to be protecting the Ninth while you were off perving on drunken college girls in _fucking Tijuana?_"

"What, do you expect me to think through the potential consequences of all of my actions _every single time?_" Ganauche sputtered, aghast.

"When you're the one who's supposed to be guarding our precious boss, _yes!_"

"Well, what about the other guardians?" Ganauche tried, feeling that he was being unfairly saddled with more than his fair share of the blame here.

"What about them?"

"They exist!"

"…Yes," Coyote acknowledged after a moment, somewhat reluctantly.

"So why aren't you yelling at _them_ for not doing a better job?"

Coyote's only answer was a silence that said perfectly well that they both knew the other guardians did not count and people hardly even knew their fucking names so don't even try it.

"Fine," Ganauche acquiesced after a long pause. "…So, uh. Is he, you know… okay?"

"…Yeah, apparently the Decimo and his friends rescued him."

"Oh, those kids?" Ganauche perked up.

"Yeah, the ones from Japan."

"All right, awesome! So why are you even calling me, then?"

"What do you _mean_, why—"

"Dude, I've got a date with _twins_ in like an hour." He checked his watch. "—Forty-five minutes, actually. So if that's it and everything's fine, then I gotta go."

"Ganauche—!"

"Say hi to the boss for me, tell him my bad. Won't happen again. Hope he feels better."

"You little shit, if you even think about hanging up—!"

Ganauche plunked the receiver back down, humming brightly as he cut the Big Guy off. Sure, Coyote might be a little pissed off now, but no harm done; teachable moment and all that. He'd calm down as soon as he found himself a crossword puzzle or some prune juice or something.

Besides, right now, Ganauche III had more important things to worry about. Like motherfucking _twins_.

Oh yeah, baby.

It's _on_.


	2. Mi Casa es Su Casa

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or time-traveling ghost people.

**Notes/Warnings: **Spoilers through chapter 299, and for the Primo Arc in the anime too, I guess.

**Summary: **After the events of chapter 298, Primo and several of his guardians find themselves temporarily homeless.

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**Mafia Days: Chapter Two - Mi Casa es Su Casa**

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"You guys, it's really cramped in here," Ugetsu de gozarued unhappily.

"Well, you should have thought of that before your ring didn't get smashed to pieces like all the rest of ours," G sulked.

In truth, he wasn't any more pleased with the situation than the Rain Guardian was. It _was_, in fact, cramped, and it didn't help that that fucker D. Spade was beaming lecherously at them all from off in the corner, and it also didn't help that it was starting to get really hot in here too. This last part was mostly because there were six fully grown men all cramped inside one small metaphysical place, but part of G secretly suspected it was also because one of those men still insisted on having a live flame burning on his forehead.

"Boss," he tried delicately, "have you, uh, considered turning that off? You know, just until we all get out of here?"

"No," said Giotto, and G sighed. He resigned himself to the fact that no amount of pleading or logic would convince his best friend to stop being on fire.

"Ah, well. We'll all just have to suck it up to the extreme," said Knuckle.

"I rather like it, actually," Spade smiled.

G fought the kneejerk urge to pump a round of bullets into that annoying expression. "I still don't get why _he_ has to be here," he complained.

"He's a guardian too, G," his boss pointed out. "Or was, anyway."

"You can at least go make him stay at Lampo's instead."

"Lampo already refused to take him, and I won't force him against his will."

"Perhaps _you_ should go stay with Lampo instead, if my presence disturbs you so much," suggested Spade.

"I don't want to stay at Lampo's place," pouted G. "It smells like bubblegum," he added under his breath.

"It _does_..." Knuckle agreed thoughtfully.

"Does anyone else want to go stay with Lampo?" Ugetsu asked, looking around. When his query was met with a defeating silence, he signed and began to play a mournful tune on his flute.

"No music," broke in Alaude with a sharp glance. "It's bad enough that I already have to put up with this crowd." He said this in spite of the fact that he had already managed to establish a personal space bubble that far exceeded any of theirs, with the exception of Spade, who also had some three or four feet of clearance on either side of him that the others had given him voluntarily. (He had Mist Cooties.)

"It's my ring," Ugetsu said reasonably, "and I will play music if I want to." But he did, after a moment, slide another two feet away from Alaude's murderous glare, even though this put him far too close to G's buzz-off-sword-freak-you're-too-close elbow. And do you think G used that elbow on him for all it was worth? You bet he did, and with no regrets, either.

"Violence isn't the answer, G," Knuckle admonished.

"Like hell it isn't," muttered G.

"I agree," said Alaude, and abruptly he stood up, whipping out his handcuffs and starting forward.

"You wanna go?" G asked, reaching into his pocket for his gun.

Spade laughed, apparently enjoying the show, and both G and Alaude turned and redirected their glares at him. Spade only grinned and leaned back, beckoning them lazily, inviting them to fight.

"Guys, it's only been like fifteen minutes, you cannot possibly be resorting to a brawl already," Ugetsu whined. When none of the three acknowledged him, he turned plaintively to Giotto. "Boss, please put a stop to this."

"Gentlemen," said Primo, and then all three did pause for a moment to look over. "Not inside Ugetsu's home."

"Giotto, come on," G protested. "We don't need either of these guys here, they only make trouble."

"And you can't order me around, I'm afraid," Spade said with polite scorn.

Alaude said nothing at all, but merely turned his attention back to Spade a moment later, ignoring Giotto entirely.

Giotto blinked. Then he turned to look at Ugetsu. Ugetsu looked at him.

"You know, I think I'll go to Lampo's place after all," Knuckle said apropos of nothing, and a moment later he vanished.

Then a loud crash sounded in the brawling corner, and the three fighters disappeared into a cloud of smoke, from which the occasional grunt and curse could be heard.

Giotto and Ugetsu watched for a moment, and then Giotto shrugged. "Well, I tried."

Ugetsu closed his eyes and brought his flute to his lips.

The brawl continued on as the hollowly cheerful notes of a particularly melancholy version of 'Skip to My Lou' filled the air, and the first generation of the Vongola family settled in to wait for their homes to be repaired by an old guy and a jar of blood.


	3. Tornado Punch

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or adorable weaponized animals.**  
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**Notes/Warnings: **Spoilers through chapter 246 (Yamamoto's rematch with Genkishi). May also contain some butchering of your childhood.

**Summary: **In which Gokudera and Yamamoto have a Pokémon battle, because they can.

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**Mafia Days: Chapter Three - Tornado Punch**

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"Jirou! I choose you!" The Akita Inu appeared in a flash of blue light.

"Go! Uri!" Uri burst into existence and immediately tried to claw Gokudera's face off. Caught somewhere between exasperation and embarrassment, Gokudera made a sort of hissing noise and pried the cat back off. "No, Uri, _him_, attack _him!_"

Yamamoto laughed. "Jirou, use Water Gun!"

"Jirou!" cried Jirou as little blasts of water jetted out in Uri's direction. "Jirou!"

"Ha! Like such a pathetic attack could take us out!" mocked Gokudera, looking as self-satisfied as you've ever seen him. "Uri! Let's show them what we're made of! Flamethrower!"

"Uri!" meowed Uri, opening his mouth (yeah, Uri's a dude in this fic, _what_) and spewing out molten jets of flame.

"Whoa! Look out, Jirou!" Yamamoto called, and Jirou dodged obediently. "Good job!" said Yamamoto, pumping his fist. "Okay, let's hit them back! Use Surf!"

"Jirouuuu!" Jirou growled as a giant tidal wave appeared behind him somehow and then barreled past without hitting him because of course it was aimed at Uri, and it would just be silly if Jirou got hit by his own attack. It's not like he was Confused or something.

"Uri!" cried Gokudera as the little cat was tossed asunder. "Shit..." he muttered, a drop of sweat appearing on his brow. "I forgot, Fire types are weak against Water!"

"You forgot?" Yamamoto chuckled with one arm behind his head, looking all, 'lol, what?'

"Shut up! Uri... you fought well, but it just wasn't enough after all. Looks like I'll have to swap you out. Return!" He held out his box, and Uri vanished in a beam of light. Then Gokudera reached for his belt and selected another box.

"Garyuu! Go!" he shouted, and an eager-looking kangaroo appeared, ready to do battle.

"Does Ryohei know you borrowed that?" Yamamoto asked.

"He won't miss it," Gokudera said evasively before assuming one of those gung-ho POINTING STANCES that are so popular in Pokemon and also Phoenix Wright. A spotlight fell on him. "NOW!" he shouted. "Garyuu! TORNADO PUNCH!"

"Tornado Punch?" Yamamoto mused.

"That's an attack, isn't it?"

"Maybe..."

"Well, whatever, it is now. Get him, Garyuu! Tornado Punch!"

"GARYUU!" screamed Garyuu with the fire of combat burning in his eyes. "GA..." He leaned back, raising his fist. "...RYUU!" With a mighty swing, he shifted forward and nailed Jirou right in the snout.

"Jirou!" cried Yamamoto, lunging forward to catch his faithful friend as he sailed through the air. "Damn... okay, you've done enough! Return!" A moment later, Jirou was gone, and Yamamoto's ring clicked into another box. "Go! Kojirou!"

Kojirou appeared and did a little show-offy barrel roll in the air to demonstrate that he was ready to rock and roll.

"Looking good, Kojirou!" Yamamoto said. "Okay..." A glint of steely determination set in his eyes. "Let's finish this... Waterfall!"

A huge crest of water rose up and roared toward poor Garyuu.

"Evade, Garyuu!" Gokudera called. "Use Agility!"

Garyuu randomly began to zigzag in all directions like a pinball, successfully avoiding the wave.

"Don't give up, Kojirou!" Yamamoto shouted. "One last try! Ice Beam!"

"How the hell does your stupid swallow know Ice Beam?" Gokudera demanded, flipping rapidly through the strategy guide to see if Kojirous can indeed acquire that technique (they can!). "Damn it!"

"Kojirou!" Kojirou chirped as a ray of pure white light charged in his beak. "KOJIROUUUUU!" The light shot forward, a frigid blast.

"Dodge it, Garyuu!" Gokudera called desperately, but alas, the poor kangaroo was hit dead-on in mid-evasive leap and plummeted back to the ground, where he stood there frozen in place as a sparkling new Garyuusicle.

"Nooo!" cried Gokudera, throwing up his hands dramatically and dropping to his knees in despair.

"Haha! You did it, Kojirou! Way to go, buddy!" Yamamoto held out his hand and the little swallow fluttered to it in triumph as the theme from the _Rocky_ films played in the background.

"Next time..." said Gokudera, glaring at the innocent ground and clenching a trembling fist. "We'll definitely do it next time, guys!"

"Garyuu..." murmured Garyuu from within his block of ice.

"Heh, we'll look forward to it!" said Yamamoto brightly. He returned Kojirou to his box, and when Gokudera had done the same with Garyuu, slung a cheerful arm around the Storm Guardian. "Anyway, so I guess that means you owe me a Coke, Gokudera!"

Grumbling under his breath, Gokudera began fishing around in his pockets for change, and together, the two of them walked off into the sunset.


	4. The Byakuran Society

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or WTF villain costumes.

**Notes/Warnings: **Spoilers through chapter 261. Also I'm pretty sure Mukuro's the one with the boots, but whatever, Byakuran would totally wear them too.

**Summary: **You know that thing Byakuran does where he meditates and communicates with his other selves? It turns out those meetings are pretty fabulous.

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**Mafia Days: Chapter Four - The Byakuran Society**

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"I now call this meeting of the Byakuran Society to order," announced Byakuran, tapping the podium with a gavel to make it official.

"So what's first on the agenda, everyone?" asked Byakuran as he reclined on the couch and lazily plunked a marshmallow peep into his mouth.

"If no one objects, I have an urgent matter that I would like to bring to everyone's attention," spoke up a Byakuran in the corner. "It's in regards to fashion."

Instantly a hushed silence fell over the room; Byakuran even ceased munching on his peep so that he could listen all the more attentively.

"It has been brought to my notice," Byakuran began gravely, "that the calf is no longer high enough."

"High enough for what?" asked one Byakuran who clearly hadn't been paying attention in Byakuran School.

"Boots, of course," Byakuran replied, casting a scornful look in Byakuran's direction before turning his attention back to his more knowledgeable audience.

Gasps of shock and bewilderment sounded off around the room.

"But if the calf isn't high enough, what is?" cried one Byakuran who had his hands clasped on either side of his head like that Munch painting. "The knee?"

"The thighs, apparently," Byakuran reported. "Or even the crotch."

"The _crotch?_" several Byakurans gasped at once, and one or two even fainted.

"Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but in order to further our aims of conquering the universe and ruling over everyone with an iron fist, we're all going to have to start wearing crotch-high boots." He paused. "Also as many belts as possible. I forget why, exactly, but there's a certain logic to it. I guess."

"It's settled, then. We will all adopt these changes in fashion as soon as possible." Byakuran banged his gavel again, the picture of efficiency and authority. "Next order of business?"

"There's a guy in my universe who can't die," Byakuran said. "I think his name is Daisy. Anyway, I deposed him because he was trying to do his own little dictator thing in my world, but I just thought you guys might be interested. Could be Funeral Wreath material, you never know."

"Duly noted." Bang went the gavel again. "Next?"

"Ah, we discovered the cure to that blight thing." Byakuran held up a syringe, taking a quick look around. "Didn't one of you say you were looking for that?"

"Yes, thank you, I'll take that," replied Byakuran, holding his palm out eagerly. Byakuran handed him the medicine.

"Thank you, Byakuran, you're a credit to us all."

"You're quite welcome, Byakuran. And might I add that you are looking particularly handsome today."

"How good of you to say so, Byakuran. And you as well."

"Yes, we're all incredibly attractive men, of course," Byakuran said with an impatient wave of his hand. "But let's keep things moving along. These meetings aren't as easy to coordinate as they used to be. Are there any further matters to be addressed?"

"Let's compare how many times we've each had sex this week," said Byakuran eagerly. "I love it when we do that. And then we should add them all together and find out how much it is total."

"I got laid sixty times just last weekend," Byakuran alleged, looking incredibly smug. "I'm not even kidding."

"Sixty? Pfft. Try two hundred."

"Byakurans, please, if we could all just _focus_ for a minute?" Byakuran tapped his gavel impatiently.

"I think Shou-chan is plotting against me," said one Byakuran who looked particularly glum.

"Well, of course he is," replied Byakuran, not the least bit concerned. "They always do eventually."

"Yeah... But I don't know, I guess part of me just hoped that mine would be different."

"We all did. There, there." Byakuran rubbed his back in sympathy while Byakuran pulled out a tissue and dabbed delicately at the corners of his eyes.

"I suppose this means we're done, then," sighed Byakuran, tapping his gavel one more time. "Meeting adjourned," he said airily, as though he were above it all.

Immediately, mindless chatter broke out across the room.

"I don't even know if they _make_ crotch-high boots in my world..."

"Hello, who cares, you're the goddamned emperor of everything. Just order someone to make you a pair."

"They're all going to think I'm weird..."

"I just..." Sniff. "...don't see why it has to come to this!" Hiccup. "We were such good friends... we won first place in the science fair together! I still remember when we went out for ice cream afterward, and I asked him, do you want to be a captain in my awesome new mafia family, and he said sure, and I said great, and he said do I get to wear a cape, and I said sure if you want, and he said awesome, and... a-and...!"

"There, there..."

Gradually, the hum of collective voices began to blur and then fade away. In his meditation room, Byakuran opened his eyes once more to his dark and silent world, where he was, at least for the time being, the only one.

He smiled. It was good to have peace and quiet, but all the same, he did so love those get-togethers with the old gang.


	5. Everybody Hurts Sometimes

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or hilarious teenage melodrama.

**Notes/Warnings: **Spoilers through chapter 303; I've also taken some speculative liberties regarding the conclusion of this arc. (Also everyone is wildly OOC.)

And one last note—this is the last chapter that I already had pre-written, so from this point on, updates will be much more infrequent (though there should still be something new from time to time). So for the time being, I'd just like to thank everyone who's reviewed and/or faved this. You guys are awesome. :)

**Summary: **A broken heart brings the Shimon family together.

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**Mafia Days: Chapter Five - Everybody Hurts Sometimes**

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It was a defeat snatched from the jaws of victory. They should have seen it coming, Adelheid supposed, but then again, maybe some of them had, and just hadn't cared enough to do anything about it. The not caring part certainly applied to most of them.

The one person it didn't apply to was curled up pitifully on a corner of the couch, beset by an avalanche of despair brought on by that greatest of tragedies, a broken heart. Or something.

"I just can't believe sh-she would do that! Why? Why?" he demanded of the heavens before breaking off into an agonized wail.

"There, there, Julie," said Large uncharacteristically (it wasn't the words of comfort that were uncharacteristic; it was the words, period). He rubbed Julie's back in soothing circles.

"It was j-just so sudden, so shocking... I went up to my bed to check on her and she wasn't... she wasn't _there!_"

"We know, Julie-kun," said Shitt P politely. They had, in fact, all been present when Julie's girlish screams had echoed through the hideout, quickly followed by him tearing down the stairs and through the main room where they'd all sat congregated like a good mafia family. They had also been present when he'd returned to joylessly announce the simultaneous occurrences of Chrome's escape from the island and the end of this world as we know it. He had then collapsed into the wretched heap that now sat blubbering snot into the occasional handkerchiefs Large would offer him as each previous one was retired, wet and dripping, from active duty.

"I just don't _understand!_" Julie gasped as he came up for air after a particularly long fit of muffled sobs. "I thought what we had was special!"

"What?" said Adelheid in sincere bafflement. Because seriously, what.

"We were going to get _married!_ I thought"—sniff—"I thought we would be together forever!"

"..._Why_ would you think that?"

"Our love was pure! We were like Romeo and Juliet!"

"Romeo and Juliet killed themselves," informed Shitt P matter-of-factly.

"_What?_" Julie shot a horrified glance toward Adelheid, who nodded. "Oh my _God_," he moaned before his voice cracked and he began to sob harder than ever.

"Forget her, Julie," broke in a cold voice all of a sudden. The rest of the family looked over to see Enma pulling off his headphones, the last few brooding notes of a Linkin Park song dissolving into the evening air.

"Enma..." Julie whispered, stunned.

"She's not worth it. None of them are." Enma stood up. "Love..." he began as he walked toward the open balcony, the setting sun casting his features in a harsh and dramatic glow. "In the end, where does it get any of us?"

"In the end, nowhere!" put in Aoba excitedly. He turned to the nearest person, Kaoru, and gave him a brofist for absolutely no reason.

"Exactly!" Enma exclaimed. He hunched over the balcony rail, where the entirety of the island stretched out beneath him, an audience of rocks and trees and shadows. "It's all meaningless. This world is cold and unforgiving. And those few that dare to open their hearts are inevitably betrayed and crushed." He pounded a fist on the railing, then bowed his head. Adelheid couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw a single tear roll despondently down his cheek.

"Enma...!" Julie's tears were considerably less artful as he got to his feet, eyes shining with both pain and admiration for his boss.

"Julie..." Enma turned slowly, dramatically, to conclude his soliloquy. "If we can't rely on them... we'll just have to rely on each other!"

Julie gave a shudder and ducked his head, swiping briefly at his flowing tears. Then, without any dignity whatsoever, he launched himself into Enma's waiting arms.

"Boss!" he sobbed loudly. "Oh, Boss..."

"We'll get through this," Enma promised him. "Together. Because, after all... we're Family."

"Boss..."

Slowly at first, then with great enthusiasm, Shitt P began to applaud. The others followed suit, Aoba and Kaoru pausing occasionally to wipe away stray tears of their own.

Adelheid realized her mouth was hanging open a little. She closed it, then sighed, her breasts heaving wearily.

Maybe it wasn't too late to consider defecting to the Vongola.


	6. How I Overcame My Fear of Everything

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its character, settings, or random deus ex machina.

**Notes/Warnings: **Just so everyone knows, this chapter is even dumber than usual because it was written as the result of a joke prompt requesting a fic called "How I Overcame My Fear of Everything" that featured, specifically, "Basil, Genkishi, Byakuran, snakes, illusionary missiles, and fluffy bunnies." Yeah.

But mostly the blame for this falls on poor little Basil, for making the same D: face in every single reaction panel he's ever been in.

**Summary: **Basil takes a stand against Byakuran's tyranny. An adorable, fluffy stand.

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**Mafia Days: Chapter Six - How I Overcame My Fear of Everything**

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"I'm telling you, it really works!" Genkishi insisted as he waved the CD in Basil's face. "It helped me overcome my dependency issues and finally break free from Byakuran-sama to become my own person!"

"I... I just don't know," said Basil timidly. "Subliminal therapy? Really?"

"It'll give you all the confidence you need!" Genkishi declared, thrusting the CD into Basil's unwilling hands. "Just take it! Trust me!"

"Okay..." Basil conceded, though he still looked apprehensive.

"Watch your face, kid, or it'll get stuck that way," Genkishi advised before disappearing in an illusionary poof of smoke.

"..." said Basil as he began to examine the CD.

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"_I am a strong, independent man. I am not afraid of anything. I believe in myself! I don't need to chase the approval of charismatic would-be dictators just to boost my own self-esteem._"

Basil slept on as the self-empowering mantras repeated throughout the night.

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"Byakuran!" Basil shouted defiantly as he stood outside the Millefiore headquarters the next day, surrounded by an army of fluffy bunnies. "Come out! Face me!"

"Well, it seems I have a visitor!" smiled Byakuran as he opened his door and stepped out onto the Millefiore front lawn. "And what brings you here, Basil-kun?"

"I'm not afraid of you anymore! And I don't need to seek your approval to boost my own self-esteem! Also, I quit smoking!"

Byakuran's smile faded. "Damn it, is this more of that subliminal message shit that all the kids are raving about nowadays? Remind me to have Genkishi blown up." Pause. "Again."

"My army of cute fluffy bunnies and I are here to put an end to your evil ambitions for good!" Basil cried, shaking his adorable little fist.

Byakuran regarded the bunnies with a raised eyebrow.

"...I don't know, they just started following me all of a sudden!" said Basil defensively. "But anyway, that's not the point! The point is... ATTACK!"

Baring their vicious little bunny teeth, the rabbits sprang forward. With a sigh, Byakuran reached into his back pocket and withdrew a pan flute, on which he proceeded to play a dapper little tune.

All of a sudden, a chilling hissing sound arose from the hills as a mass of snakes appeared on the horizon, slithering as fast as they could to Byakuran's aid. Basil looked shocked.

"A little trick I learned from the parallel universe in which the Mafia is composed of thousands of magical snake charmers, who battle each other for honor and prestige in something very much like the world's lamest game of Pokemon," Byakuran explained.

Basil could only watch in horror as one by one, the adorable fluffy bunnies were mercilessly devoured.

"Well, now, it appears you're defenseless, Basil-kun," said Byakuran in that smug little tone of voice that makes you want to punch him in the face.

"No... no! My plan... it failed!" Basil collapsed to his knees in despair.

"Any last words?" Byakuran asked.

"I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY!" came a sudden booming voice from the heavens. Suddenly, missiles appeared out of nowhere, blowing up all of the snakes. Byakuran made that face he made at the end of chapter 253, while Basil looked around wonderingly, trying to spot his miraculous savior.

"It is I, Genkishi!" the voice announced as the clouds parted to reveal Genkishi decked out in full Stalfos mode. He walked up and gave Basil a hearty thump on the back.

"Genkishi! I-I tried, I really did! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, Basil! You've already proven your bravery! I told you those CDs would work!"

"Genkishi! I'll never doubt you again!"

"..." said Byakuran.

"Don't worry, Byakuran-sama, your snakes are fine! The missiles were only illusions!" explained Genkishi soothingly.

Byakuran took a threatening step forward, and Genkishi stopped him with a well-placed wall. Then, turning back to Basil, he took him by the hand.

"Come, Basil, let's embrace the new world of endless possibilities together without fear, you and I!"

And together, they skipped off into the rainbow.


	7. Finger Half Gloves

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or redonkulous bling.

**Notes/Warnings: **Spoilers through chapter 300. Happy Birthday, Tsuna!

**Summary: **There's no problem a good old-fashioned shounen upgrade can't solve.

* * *

**Mafia Days: Chapter Seven – Finger Half Gloves**

**

* * *

**

"Hey there, Decimo," said Giotto, appearing out of thin air and offering a casual salute with his holographic time-traveling arm.

"P… Primo!" gasped Tsuna, standing there gaping like so many Basils. A fly swooped lazily in and out of his mouth.

"I've come to unlock your shackles," Giotto announced.

Tsuna furrowed his brow, although he still determinedly kept his mouth open. "Wha… what? W-wait a sec, didn't you already do that before?"

"Did I?" said Giotto, holding his hands behind his back and glancing innocuously around the room.

"I'm pretty sure you did…"

"I don't recall that at all."

"Remember? It was when I was fighting Byaku—"

"Anyway," Giotto cut in, waving an impatient hand, "let's get on with it. Hold out your ring."

Wisely deciding it was easier to just shut up and obey, Tsuna presented his ring hand. After a couple of flashy teasing panels, a blinding white light faded to reveal that his ring had magically transformed! Into five new rings!

"…What the—"

"It's your new ring, Decimo!" beamed Giotto.

"I know, but… there are _five _of them," pointed out Tsuna because he can count.

"That's your new upgrade! The more rings, the more power!" Giotto explained.

"…"

"TRY IT OUT," Giotto said, except he didn't really say it in all-caps, but all the same, it had a sort of politely threatening air to it that Tsuna thought it best not to ignore.

Reaching into his pocket reluctantly, he popped one of his superhero pills into his mouth. Immediately the familiar orange flame burst into life on his forehead, except that now, peculiarly, it was in the shape of a flickering mushroom cloud.

"Oh! Look at your gloves," pointed Giotto eagerly. Tsuna looked down, and saw that his mittens had transformed into a pair of those finger half gloves that Lady Gaga wore in the Poker Face video. You know the ones. Or if you don't, Google them. Anyway, they were covered in sequins and were also emitting little mushroom cloud flames.

"They also glow in the dark," Giotto remarked.

"…Thanks," Tsuna mumbled. Giotto just chuckled and slung an arm around his shoulders. Then his face turned unsettlingly serious.

"Decimo," he said lightly. "Kick his ass for me, okay?"

He indicated Tsuna's opponent, Enma, who had just been standing there the whole time, I guess. Then, without further ado, Giotto vanished back into Tsuna's ring. …s.

"…" said Enma noncommittally.

"He…" Tsuna rubbed the back of his head, trying to think how to explain. "He does that a lot."

* * *

_Later…_

Battered, bruised, and utterly exhausted, Tsuna slumped onto the ground, his spirit broken, along with all five of his brand-new rings. Enma had won. It was all over now.

"Any last words?" asked Enma coldly.

"Not so fast!" spoke a wizened old voice from the shadows. After a moment of agonizing effort, Tsuna managed to lift his head, only to find himself looking into the blind and bandaged eyes of Talbot, expert metal craftsman and magical old guy extraordinaire.

Tsuna briefly wondered if the blood loss was causing him to hallucinate.

"Now let's see here…" mused Talbot as he rifled through his voodoo pockets. "Sin… Penalty… Brutality… Animality… Fatality…"

"Are you just listing the lyrics of the Mortal Kombat theme?" Enma asked.

"Aha! This will do… Victory!"

"Don't you mean Flawless Victory?" muttered Enma, but no one was paying any attention to him. Poor kid.

He and Tsuna watched as Talbot gathered the remains of Tsuna's rings into a pathetic little pile and then dumped the bottle of Victory all over them. There was another flash of brilliant light, and then…

"I present to you, the Vongola Gauntlet, Version XXX!" declared Talbot proudly.

Tsuna stared at his hand, which was covered by a giant armored glove that kinda looked like Sauron's gloves from the opening scene of Fellowship. You know, before he gets his hand chopped off.

"That is so not fair," sulked Enma.

"You haven't seen the half of it!" said Talbot. "Go ahead kid, try it out!"

Tsuna looked terrified, but then remembered the plight of all of his friends who were COUNTING ON HIM, and steeled his resolve. Bracing himself, he swallowed another pill.

A moment later, he stood before the other two wearing a pair of flaming gloves with vicious-looking Wolverine claws on the knuckles. The gauntlets went up to his elbows and were generally goth as all get-out. The most striking thing, though, was the fact that the flame on his forehead appeared to be going supernova.

"Da~mn," said Talbot.

"That… that's—" stuttered Enma in disbelief before he noted the fly from earlier hovering close by, and decided to keep his mouth shut.

Tsuna blinked coolly, and his power aura jumped by a mile, sending a wave of energy rippling outward and distorting several televisions in the local area.

"Oh, man," whistled Talbot appreciatively. He shot a sympathetic look toward Enma. "You are so fucked."

"Shut up," Enma said.

"I'm not even using 50 percent of my power," said Tsuna as another aura ripple breezed over his hair and feathered it just so.

"I GET IT, ALL RIGHT?" Enma glared, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "_Geez_."


	8. Love is a Battlefield

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or totally canon love triangles.

**Notes/Warnings: **Major spoilers through chapter 295. Also, the premise of this fic relies heavily on an old fandom joke—people have been shipping Yama/Wall ever since chapter 200, for obvious reasons (they are both sexy beasts).

**Summary: **Yamamoto, Gokudera, and the Wall. The love triangle showdown you secretly always wanted.

* * *

**Mafia Days: Chapter Eight - Love is a Battlefield**

**

* * *

**

Wall waited with growing excitement as its prey approached the street corner. Any moment now, Yamamoto Takeshi, the love of its life and delight of its nonexistent eyes (Wall Joke!), would come blindly traipsing around the bend, plowing headfirst into the flat steely embrace that awaited him. Wall quivered with anticipation; it had been too long.

_Soon, soon I'll have him in my rectangular clutches once again_, it thought to itself. Yamamoto came strolling around the corner and Wall sprung up eagerly, anticipating the inimitable feel of splattered human against its smooth level front. _Any moment now… here he comes…!_

"Go Go Gadget Springs!" said Yamamoto, and a pair of metal coils emerged suddenly from his heels. Shifting his weight, he bounded clear up and over the Wall like a human grasshopper.

_God_ damn _it_, thought Wall, shaking a mental fist. Ever since the kid had gotten those robot legs, Wall had been getting blue-balled left and right.

This called for drastic measures.

* * *

"Look, Baseball Idiot, so help me, the next time I see your stupid face, I'm either going to punch it or make out with it, so which is it going to be?"

"Wow, Gokudera, that's awfully forward of you," Yamamoto laughed. Then, when Gokudera reared his fist back, he laughed again and held his hands out defensively. "Okay, okay! Well, make out, I guess!"

Gokudera proceeded to attack his lips like some sort of malnourished predator, and Yamamoto kissed him back while secretly trying to figure out if anyone had perhaps drugged his good friend, or replaced him with a pod person.

At last, Gokudera broke off and fixed Yamamoto with a particularly stern glare. "This never happened," he declared as he gathered his things. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Okay, sure," replied Yamamoto, who was now looking around the room attempting to spot any hidden cameras on the vague suspicion that this might be some sort of dare.

"Bye," Gokudera said, slamming the door behind him. Yamamoto was left alone to ponder the whirlwind twists and turns of his love life.

* * *

The next day, while walking to school, he noticed a familiar shadow looming past the corner ahead. _Looks like that Wall is back again_, he thought to himself, and tried to quell the shivery little thrill that ran through him at the thought. _You're dating Gokudera now… apparently_, he reminded himself. _You'll just have to tell Wall it's over once and for all._

Steeling himself to do just that, he was thus blown away by the shock of the scene that greeted him when he rounded the corner. Wall was indeed waiting patiently for him there, its cool stone outline positively leering at him. And lying crumpled on the ground before that towering form, groaning and muttering vague curses in Italian, was Gokudera.

Rage flashed through Yamamoto like pure adrenaline. He darted forward, crouching beside his boyfriend-I-guess and looking him over quickly to see if there was any permanent damage. He looked pretty battered, with some decorative blood and scratches scattered here and there, but overall he didn't seem too badly off. Breathing a sigh of relief, Yamamoto refocused his attention on the perpetrator of this violent act.

"You crossed the line," he said quietly, reaching for Shigure Kintoki.

Wall teetered back-and-forth anxiously (think R2-D2 when he gets excited). _I was only trying to prove my love to you_, it seemed to be trying to say.

"If your business is with me, you talk to _me_," Yamamoto replied coldly. "You don't go around hurting my friends."

_He is not just a 'friend'! I saw the two of you together last night!_ Wall made a sort of sniffling noise.

"That doesn't give you the right to attack him!"

"Ugh… the fuck is going on?" Gokudera groaned, holding his head painfully and trying to sit up.

_If I can't have you, no one will!_ Wall declared hysterically.

"Wall, open your eyes! The two of us could have never worked out!"

_We could have_ made _it work! If you have love, you can make anything work!_

"Are you talking to a fucking wall?" Gokudera said slowly, eyeing Yamamoto like he'd grown a second head.

_We could have had everything, the two of us! We could have ruled the world! And yet you chose this… this_ bipedal humanoid _over me?_

"…Well, yeah," Yamamoto said.

"Are you insane?"

_Are you insane?_

"You know, you two might get along better than you thought, if you tried," Yamamoto said thoughtfully.

_I'd rather diiiiiiiie!_ Wall shrieked, and started to charge. Feeling a pang of regret, Yamamoto closed his eyes solemnly and activated his Vongola Gear.

Two seconds later, the remains of his quadratic foe sat piled before him. A breeze picked up, and gently began to scatter the sandy debris across the wind.

Yamamoto bowed his head and held a moment of silence for the inanimate object that had stalked him for so long.

"God, you completely disintegrated it," Gokudera grumbled beside him. "You're so fucking overpowered these days it sickens me."

Yamamoto laughed, and pulled him to his feet. "Yeah, I know."

"Asshole. Come on, my clothes are all messed up, I gotta go change."

Yamamoto chuckled and tottered after him, and together the two of them walked off to go have sexy victory hijinks, or something.


	9. Slap Bet

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or violence-based dares.

**Notes/Warnings: **SO MANY SPOILERS for the latest arc. Oh my goodness.

**Summary: **How Ryohei and Aoba's battle _should _have gone.

* * *

**Mafia Days: Chapter Nine – Slap Bet**

**

* * *

**

"I propose," proposed Aoba, "a slap bet."

"A slap bet?" shouted Ryohei, looking fiercely inspired. "What an extreme twist! That's extremely better than what I was going to say!"

"What were you going to say?" Aoba inquired.

"I was going to say BOXING to the extreme!"

"I see. Well, then you're right—mine is better."

"Okay, will somebody explain to me what a slap bet is?" asked Tsuna, looking a little sheepish, but mostly just shocked (offended, even) that Ryohei knew something that he didn't.

"I'll explain, Tenth!" chirruped Gokudera. "A slap bet is when two guys make a wager, but instead of gambling money, they agree that the winner gets to slap the loser as hard as he can in the face with no consequences afterward."

"SO EXTREME!" said Ryohei, who apparently hadn't known what a slap bet was after all.

"This is my pride, Sasagawa Ryohei," declared Aoba, adjusting his glasses with a finger. "Do you agree to these terms?"

"Koyo…" Ryohei bit his lip to stop his manly emotions from bursting every which way. "IT'S A BET, TO THE EXTREME!"

They shook on it.

"So what the hell are you betting on, anyway?" Gokudera asked reasonably (prolonged exposure to Aoba and Ryohei has a tendency to make anyone feel extra-specially reasonable in comparison).

Aoba and Ryohei exchanged glances, then "um…"s.

"How about best three out of five?" Reborn suggested. "You can decide on each individual wager as the rest of the battles continue. And in the meantime, Koyo can tag along with us."

And that was how the Fellowship of the Vongola Rings acquired one more temporary member.

* * *

"Lambo… and Large!" gasped Tsuna from within the little stone dome he, Gokudera, Ryohei, Reborn, and Aoba were all now crouching in.

"Oh, _excellent_," said Aoba delightedly. He turned to Ryohei. "One slap says Large trashes the kid in less than five minutes."

"That's not something I want you betting on!" Tsuna squeaked.

"You're on!" said Ryohei fervently.

They watched with bated breath as Lambo walked around demanding that Large play with him, smugly insisting that Large was his subordinate, and just generally making a nuisance of himself while apparently living in some sort of delusional world. Eventually, Large seemed to tire of this and punted Lambo out of the sumo ring they'd agreed upon.

"_Yes!_" Aoba roared, pumping a fist in the air. Before the dust had even settled, he turned toward Ryohei with a look of malevolent triumph. "Prepare to taste my palm of victory, Ryohei!" And without further ado, he slapped the Sun Guardian so hard his grandchildren felt it.

"Wait," said Reborn since he was apparently the only one still paying attention to Lambo's fight. "You shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions."

As the dust cleared to reveal TYL!Lambo, the characters all predictably gasped in shock.

"Wait a sec!" said Gokudera. "That means Aoba slapped Ryohei even though he didn't win the bet! Shouldn't there be some sort of penalty for that?"

"As an impartial judge," said Reborn, who was anything but, "I rule that Ryohei may give Aoba Koyo two slaps in retaliation."

"_What_—" was all that Aoba managed to say before Ryohei turned eagerly toward him and slapped him so hard his _great_-grandchildren felt it. As Aoba sat up, tears involuntarily springing from his eyes, Ryohei backfisted him again, this time sending him crashing right through the stone arches of their little alcove, and into the middle of Large's sumo ring.

"HIIIEEEEEK!" shrieked Tsuna while Gokudera swore like a dying sailor. Both of them ducked and frantically covered their heads, as if doing so would in any way help to ward off thousands of tons of crushing rock.

About a minute or so later, when it finally sunk in that nothing was actually happening, everyone turned toward Large with dubious expressions.

"…Okay, you got me," Large said. "The dome won't actually collapse if you break that wall there."

"I _thought_ that seemed kind of convenient," mused Gokudera, nodding his head.

* * *

**THE MATCH HAS ENDED**, the Vindice announced once TYL!Lambo had finally finished kicking Large's ass. **THEREFORE, WE SHALL LEAVE BEHIND THE FIRST KEY THAT WAS GIVEN TO US BY COZART AND GIOTTO**.

As the Vindice leader indifferently tossed Cozart's wallet in their general direction, Aoba, hungry for redemption, turned to Ryohei and declared, "I bet this flashback will prove once and for all just how much of a giant dick your boss was!"

"I'll take that bet to the—" Ryohei replied before said flashback intervened, cutting off his last word (spoilers: it was 'extreme').

One sparkly handshake later, the flashback faded away and a sour-faced Aoba turned toward Ryohei to face his destiny like a man.

Ryohei slapped him. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, Obi-Wan Kenobi felt a disturbance in the Force.

* * *

"I'll tell you my pride!" said Gokudera, staring down Shitt P with the intensity of a child waiting for the clock to strike 3 p.m. on the last day of school.

"I already know," replied Shitt P. "It's—"

"WAIT," exclaimed Aoba. "I know this one too! In the end, your pride is being a subordinate of the Vongola Tenth! Am I right? Am I right?"

"That's… what I was going to say too," acknowledged Shitt P.

They both turned toward Gokudera.

"Well… yeah!" said Gokudera, looking a little thrown but defiantly pushing through. "Being a guardian and serving Tenth is my pride!"

"I KNEW IT!" screamed Aoba victoriously, and without wasting a second more, he spun toward Ryohei and slapped him so hard Yamamoto woke up from his coma.

* * *

"We're tied for slaps!" Aoba announced once Gokudera had finished defeating Shitt P (you call it wishful thinking; I call it LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU).

"Your first slap didn't count," Gokudera pointed out.

"So in the end, it comes down to this," Aoba continued, the very picture of the la la la technique. "The oldest and grandest of mafia traditions. The coin toss."

Tsuna opened his mouth and then shut it again, deciding there were some mafia traditions he just needed to learn to roll with.

"ARE YOU READY, RYOHEI?" Aoba shouted, holding the 100-yen piece with something like reverence.

"I'M READY TO THE EXTREME!" Ryohei answered, positively shaking with anticipation.

Aoba flipped the coin.

"CALL IT!"

"HEADS!" Ryohei screamed.

All eyes watched as the coin that carried their fates spun through in the air. In dramatic slow motion, it arced toward the floor, then landed with a tinny sound…

…right on its edge.

"Son of a—" began Aoba before he was interrupted by flashes of lightning and dramatic black text bubbles.

**THE COIN HAS SPOKEN**, the Vindice declared. **BOTH GUARDIANS OF SHIMON AND VONGOLA HAVE LOST THE BET. THEREFORE, THEY ARE BOTH DEFEATED AND SHALL BE TAKEN AWAY BY US**.

Before anyone could protest, chains appeared out of nowhere and dragged Ryohei and Aoba away.

"_Fucking hell_," said Gokudera once they had all finished standing there in shock.

"Eh. It could have been worse," said Reborn.

"Ryohei and Koyo just got dragged off to a hell prison because of a coin toss!" said Tsuna in disbelief. "How the heck could it be any _worse?_"

"It could have been worse," Reborn said again, and shuddered.


	10. Degrassi: The Mafia Generation

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or day-to-day school kid drama.

**Notes/Warnings: **Crack up the wazoo, as usual, and also a little bit of melodramatic 8059 at the end (high school romance is serious business you guys).

**Summary: **The last high school AU you'll ever need to read.

* * *

**Mafia Days: Chapter Ten – Degrassi: The Mafia Generation**

**

* * *

**

"My life sucks!" wailed Tsuna as he collapsed onto his bed. "I'm not popular, I'm failing all my classes, and I don't have a girlfriend!"

"Yeah, you've pretty much got nothing to live for," agreed Reborn as he casually turned a page of the magazine he was reading. Probably it was a magazine about guns or something. He really loves those guns.

"Hey, what's that you're reading?" Tsuna asked as he glanced over Reborn's shoulder. "A magazine about guns?"

"Your point being?"

The camera zoomed in on Tsuna's silent, thoughtful gaze until even the most oblivious viewers could clearly see that he was in the midst of developing some outrageously stupid and possibly suicidal idea.

"Are you thinking of bringing a gun to school?" asked Reborn idly.

"Well, it's not like I'd actually _shoot_ anyone with it!" Tsuna protested. "I'd only use it, you know, to impress the other kids and prove to them that I'm cool!"

"Okay, sure," said Reborn, reaching over to the literal pile of guns he keeps right next to his hammock and tossing one at Tsuna in the most careless way humanly possible. "I see no way a plan like that can possibly backfire or go wrong at all."

* * *

"Oh, look," said Gokudera, the teenage rebel with a heart of gold, "a popular kid. Fuck him and his popularity. You just know popular assholes like that don't have any real problems in the world because they're so fucking happy and popular. Fuck."

"…" said Chrome neutrally.

"Oh, shit," continued Gokudera, snapping to attention from where he had been leaning casually against his locker, "he's coming this way, _fuck_. Let's get out of here before—"

"Hey, Gokudera!" said Yamamoto as he butted into the conversation and brought all of Gokudera's fears to life. "Hey, Chrome! What's up?"

"Screw you, popular kid," said Gokudera.

"…" said Chrome.

"Now, now, don't be like that, we're all friends here!" laughed Yamamoto as he slung an arm over each of them.

"I'd never be friends with a popular jerkoff like you!" retorted Gokudera, outraged. He shoved Yamamoto's arm away. "Why don't you just fuck off and die?"

"Hey," frowned Yamamoto, seemingly oblivious to Gokudera's seething hate, "aren't you swearing an awful lot for someone on TeenNick?"

"Your _face_ is too _ugly_ for someone on TeenNick."

"…No…" paused Yamamoto, taking a moment to examine himself in a nearby mirror, "I'm pretty sure I'm just as attractive as the average person in this school." He glanced over at the general student body which was seemingly filled with teenage models.

"Go to hell!" Gokudera screamed at him. He turned and stormed off.

"Maa…" sighed Yamamoto, taking up Gokudera's now-vacant position leaning against the locker. His gaze followed the angry boy wistfully until he faded from sight.

"…" said Chrome, wondering why she even knew these people.

* * *

"Dad, I've got a problem," Yamamoto confessed that night at dinnertime.

"Now, Takeshi, you're attractive, popular, and good at sports," said Tsuyoshi as he munched unconcernedly on a piece of sushi. "What problems could someone like you possibly have?"

"Well, the thing is, Dad… I'm sort of… _different_ from the other kids at school," Yamamoto replied.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well… the truth is… I sort of like other guys."

"Are you saying you're gay, Takeshi?"

"Well… yeah." Yamamoto laughed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

"Oh, son." Tsuyoshi smiled and ruffled his boy's hair. "You know there's nothing wrong with that!"

"Really?"

"Absolutely! You can like whoever you want to like, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thanks, Dad." Yamamoto smiled back at him and they had a beautiful father/son bonding moment. "The only thing is," he added after a pause, "I'm kind of worried about what will happen when the other kids find out."

"Eh, don't worry about that. It's not like your school is run by a bunch of bullies or anything."

"Actually…" Yamamoto paused. "It kind of is." He pictured the school's head prefect, Hibari Kyoya, and his pack of vicious Disciplinary Committee members. "…In fact, yes, our school is literally run by a pack of bullies."

"Oh. Well, whatever." Tsuyoshi shrugged. "You'll just have to deal with it, then."

* * *

"That kid's got a gun!" shrieked a random passerby. "Oh my GOD!"

"Somebody stop him!" wailed a pregnant sixteen-year-old. "Don't let him hurt my baby!"

"Where's the principal?" shouted a third student, looking this way and that in a panic and wondering why there didn't seem to be a single adult in the whole school.

"The teachers only show up when there's someone doing drugs who's never done drugs before and is terrified of getting caught!" said the first. "Quick, anyone got a joint?"

"No, wait, wait!" Tsuna tried to explain. "You've got it all wrong!" He glanced around desperately, wondering where this seemingly foolproof plan had gone and made its shocking turn for the worst. "I don't want to hurt anybody, I just thought—"

"You just thought _what_?" came a voice from down the other end of the hall. The camera panned toward the voice in shock, and several fangirls gave delighted cries. There stood Gokudera, glaring at the crowd and Tsuna in particular with disgust. Several kids nodded to themselves, remembering how Gokudera's father had been killed by a guy with a gun.

"I—" Tsuna stammered. "I… I…"

"You thought waving a gun around would make you cool? How fucking stupid are you? Kids you like you sicken me—you're even worse than the popular kids."

Several of the spectators gasped out loud, and the football team exchanged angry glances with each other. Out of nowhere, someone gave Gokudera a hard shove that sent him stumbling backward. "Got a problem with the popular kids, _freak_?"

"Fuck off," shot back Gokudera, eyes flashing with unspoken angst. Several kids nodded to themselves, remembering how Gokudera's mother had been killed by a popular kid.

"…" said Tsuna, his own angst already completely and utterly forgotten in the wake of this new development.

The football kid's expression darkened and he raised a meaty fist, but just before he could make contact, he was shoved aside by a tall, slender boy with an aura of justice about him.

"Back off, man, that's enough," said Yamamoto firmly.

"You're gonna side with this freak, Takeshi?" said the football kid in outrage. "He just insulted our kind!"

"There's more important things in life than being popular," Yamamoto asserted.

All of a sudden, you could hear a pin drop in the hall.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," said the football kid at last. "Anyway, fine. You want to throw in your lot with this freak, then you can be an outcast just like him." Having pronounced this stunning verdict, he turned and stalked off with the rest of his football mob, leaving Gokudera and Yamamoto more or less alone so they could have their at-least-we-learned-an-important-lesson moment together.

"…You all right?" Yamamoto said at last.

Gokudera glared at him. "Fine," he huffed, edging back warily. "I didn't need your stupid help anyway."

"Sorry about that," said Yamamoto.

"…The hell does a popular kid like you even give a shit about someone like me, anyway?" asked Gokudera, looking away emoishly.

"Hey, popular kids have problems too. Just look at Hibari Kyoya and his drinking problem."

Gokudera shrugged, acknowledging that much. Ever since Hibari's parents had died in a car crash, his life had been one big downhill rollercoaster ride.

"And, you know…" said Yamamoto hesitantly, "…I kind of like you, too."

"W-what?" said Gokudera, looking back at him with sudden vulnerability.

"I was afraid to tell you before, but… yeah," said Yamamoto, his hesitant smile and awkward posture practically glowing with waves of irresistible boyish charm.

For a moment, Gokudera looked like he would be won over, but then he shrunk back, shaking his head and pulling his uniform jacket protectively around him. "No… it just wouldn't work."

"Gokudera—!" Yamamoto began before gasping as he grabbed the other boy's sleeve to stop him from leaving, inadvertently exposing the harsh red lines that had been concealed on the forearm below. "What…?"

"Get away from me!" Gokudera hissed in shame and fury, pulling his arm back and hastily pulling the sleeve back down. "Just leave me alone!"

"No, Gokudera…" Yamamoto again moved to cut him off, leaning in face to face, sympathy and understanding emanating from his relentless gaze.

"…" said Gokudera uncertainly.

Then they started making out.

* * *

"So I guess bringing a gun to school wasn't the best idea after all," said Tsuna thoughtfully as he handed the piece back to its rightful owner, currently sitting in his locker.

"Go figure," said Reborn indifferently. "Live and learn."

"But I did learn something important," Tsuna continued as they walked down the hall past the computer lab where Sasagawa Ryohei was about to discover that his sweet and innocent little sister had been secretly involved in a scandalous relationship with her biology professor, Mr. Shamal. "Instead of flashing guns around to try to boost my confidence, maybe I should just try being myself, eh?"

"Whatever," Reborn said.


	11. Nerdy Club for Nerds

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or enterprising young math, science, and robot enthusiasts.

**Notes/Warnings: **I also don't own any of the (bi)monthly publications and/or insidiously catchy pop songs mentioned in this chapter! Also, warning for potentially more brain-breakage than usual.

**Summary: **The geniuses of KHR form a club to get their nerd on.

* * *

**Mafia Days: Chapter Eleven – Nerdy Club for Nerds**

* * *

"This is fucking lame," derided Gokudera, arms crossed in the most annoyed, dismissive I-am-so-above-this-bullshit pose he could muster. "I can't believe you ever talked me into this."

"Don't say that, Gokudera-kun," pouted Shouichi. "It's not that bad."

"The hell it isn't! What kind of club has only three members, anyway?"

"The awesome kind," said Spanner around a mouthful of lollipop. He gave a thumbs up, without looking away from his computer screen for a second.

"The _stupid _kind. And anyway, I have more important things to do than be a part of your nerdy club for nerds."

"Suit yourself," said Shouichi, and then, manipulatively, "By the way, did you get the new issue of _Skeptical Inquirer_?"

"_Yeah_," replied Gokudera, magically transforming from the pot into the kettle in one eager swoop, "did you see that article about the Brazil footage? I can't believe that shit turned out to be a hoax! They're just making it harder for the real investigators to gain credibility!"

"True, but I thought the technology they used was pretty interesting."

"Well, yeah..."

"The new issue of _Nuts and Volts _is out too," said Spanner, but no one cared.

"By the way, guys," said Shouichi out of the blue, "I actually brought a new member this month!"

"—Wait, what?" said Gokudera, caught off guard due to his having been about to insinuate that Spanner should just marry a robot already.

"That's right, a new member! So if you two could just give him a nice warm welcome, I'd like to introduce... Byakuran!"

"Hello~" said Byakuran, musical note floating past his head as he stepped through the door and waved genially.

Gokudera and Spanner both stared, first at Byakuran and then at the increasingly guilt-faced Shouichi.

"Irie..." said Gokudera, backing away from the door, "do you mind if we chat for a sec?"

* * *

"_Have you lost your fucking mind?_"

"He promised me a cure for cancer!" said Shouichi, blushing furiously.

"He _what_?" said Gokudera, looking both impressed and also as though his entire worldview had been shattered.

"Wait," said Spanner suddenly, "that's the guy we were all fighting that one time, right?"

Gokudera and Shouichi turned to stare at him.

"...Isn't it?" Spanner asked.

"Do you live in a giant cave on the rock of oblivion or something?" said Gokudera incredulously.

"For your information," Spanner huffed, "I was _building a giant robot_."

"Why don't you just go _marry_—"

"_Guys_," broke in Shouichi impatiently. "Seriously! _Cure for cancer!_"

"Why the fuck do you keep looking at _me _every time you say that?" Gokudera glared.

"No reason..."

Gokudera eyed Shouichi eyeng his pack of cigarettes, and frowned.

"Look, guys," Shouichi said at last," this is important to me, okay? Can't we just... take one for the team, this one time?"

"_What_ team? The cancer team?"

"_Please?_"

Gokudera fixed Shouichi with his sternest, bossiest, most severe-looking right hand man glare. "No. Fucking. Way."

* * *

"I'm so happy you guys are letting me join the club!" glowed Byakuran in his happiest, sing-songiest voice.

"Well, we took a vote, and it was two to one," said Shouichi, good-naturedly avoiding the seething hate aura emanating from every fiber of Gokudera's being.

"I promise you won't regret it! In fact, I brought something for you guys!" Without further prompting, he turned and reached into a large crate that he'd apparently spirited into the room when they weren't looking. "Shou-chan told me that you hadn't come up with costumes yet, sooo..."

And, very much ignoring the growing atmosphere of confusion and also horror in the room, he began to pull out an assortment of corsets, stockings, and various other bits of lingerie.

"..." said everyone, even people who weren't actually in the room. Yes, even people in entirely different locations and situations just broke off from whatever they were doing and started dotting. It was just that fucking bizarre.

"Now, I had to guess at some of the sizes," prattled on Byakuran obliviously. "Goku-chan, you're about one hundred and sixty-eight centimeters tall, yes?"

"One seventy-two," Gokudera corrected automatically.

"..." said everyone for the second time in two minutes.

"What?" Gokudera demanded.

"...Nothing," said Shouichi at last. Spanner silently put a hand flat above his head, then moved it over Gokudera's. He glanced back over at Byakuran and shook his head. Part of Gokudera's dignity died a little.

"Anyway," Byakuran continued, "Like I said, some of the sizes are approximate, so if there are any problems, just let me know, and..."

He trailed off, perhaps finally noticing the way the other three were staring at him as though his torso had suddenly erupted into a black hole or something else equally horrifying and ridiculous.

"Byakuran-san... you _are _just kidding around with all of this, right?" asked Shouichi in hesitant pleading tones.

"What could they possibly be for?" Spanner mused.

"Oh, I think you _know_ what they're for," Byakuran all but saucily winked at them.

"The _fuck_," said Gokudera, sounding as though something fundamental was about to break inside him. "_No, we do not_."

Byakuran frowned, then looked over at Shouichi, who swallowed and suddenly took to staring at the empty corner as though it were the most amazing corner he'd ever seen and holy shit, would you look, would you just _look_ at that amazing goddamn fucking corner.

Byakuran looked a bit awkward. "Shou-chan... I thought you said we were doing Lady Marmalade this week?"

There was a silence.

"Irie," said Gokudera in a tone implying that Shouichi would do well to make sure he got his final affairs in order in the next few moments, "we need to chat again."

* * *

"All right," said Shouichi in slightly ashamed resignation. "I may or may not have told him this was a glee club."

"You... _what?_" said Gokudera, or at least the words came out of Gokudera's mouth, but seeing as they sounded slightly demonic, we can't be 100 percent sure.

"_Cure for cancer_, all right?"

Here followed an extremely long and dull (...well, no, I'm not gonna lie, it was actually pretty entertaining; we just don't have the time to go into it) conversation that ultimately ended in Shou getting his way once again on the one condition that, should any of this ever grace the servers of YouTube, none of the others would ever again see the light of another morn.

* * *

The following day, Yamamoto greeted Gokudera, slung an arm across his shoulders, and said, "Haha, Gokudera, I didn't know you spoke French!"

Shouichi's funeral was held on Monday.


	12. Brother, Can You Spare Some Change

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or ornate hanging light fixtures.

**Warnings: **Crack, profanity (thank you, Squalo), and gay mafia antics (thank you, Lussuria). The usual stuff.

**Summary: **Squalo needs a dollar.

* * *

**Mafia Days: Chapter Twelve – Brother, Can You Spare Some Change**

* * *

"VOIIIIIII," voied Squalo voifully, "LEND ME A FUCKING DOLLAR."

"Certainly," Mammon said.

She produced a bill out of seemingly nowhere and held it out to the swordsman, whose fingertips had barely brushed against it before Mammon added, "It's a ten thousand percent interest rate, per day."

Squalo bristled. "WHAT?"

"Since we're acquaintances. Normally for loans I charge hourly interest."

Squalo let go of the dollar as though it were coated in anthrax and jumped a good two feet back. "You're insane!"

"But who has the dollar?" asked Mammon coyly.

Squalo cursed vividly. "Fuuuuuck, just give me an interest-free loan just this fucking once!"

"I'd rather die," said Mammon, looking affronted.

Squalo made a strangled noise, flipped out his jack-in-the-sword, and lunged at Mammon intending to increase his hole content by a factor of 12. Mammon, predictably, vanished into space, cackling insidiously and leaving Squalo to flail about in frustration, his extended sword arm giving him the off-balanced appearance of an extremely tall and pointy fiddler crab.

"The prince found a giant crab!" said Bel in a sing-song voice because he's kind of prone to making exactly that sort of observation. He dodged as Squalo turned and stabbed at him furiously. "Ushishi, it's an angry crab!"

"YOURFUCKINGASSI'MANGRYYOUHAVEN'TEVEN_SEEN_ANGRYYEEEET!"

"Sorry, princes don't speak Crab."

Squalo changed tactics and started snapping his jaws at Bel, possibly in an attempt to somehow eat him? I don't even know, okay. Look, the guy has issues.

"Shishi, maybe it's a sharky after all!" Bel trolled.

"DAMN RIIIIIIGHT I'M A FUCKING SHAAAAAARK." Squalo stabbed a few more times for good measure, then as an afterthought asked, "By the way, do you have a dollaaaaar?"

"I have millions of them," Bel purred.

"THANK FUCK, I FUCKING NEED—"

"But they're not for commoners!" continued Bel delightedly.

Squalo slashed at him again; Bel dodged and did a backflip onto the chandelier (per Varia law as set down by Xanxus, any room occupied by any member of the Varia at any time must have a chandelier in it) like he was fucking Cirque du Soleil up in this bitch.

"GIVE ME THE DOLLAR," Squalo roared at him.

"The sharky will have to perform for it!" declared Bel. "Like Sea World!"

Squalo did an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle and sliced the golden chandelier chain clean in half. Bel somersaulted away as the lights came crashing down, and threw a pair of knives at Squalo for good measure as he landed safely and dashed away, laughing.

Squalo, not seeing the humor in any of this, slashed the chandelier to ribbons out of spite, then stomped off into the next room.

He hesitated. Xanxus was asleep on the couch in the corner, face hidden underneath the copy of _O: The Oprah Magazine _that he had apparently been perusing.

On the one hand, waking up the boss almost always meant certain death, but on the other hand, if anything was liable to put Xanxus in a less homicidal mood than usual, it was the Queen of Daytime Television and her eye-opening and strangely therapeutic celebrity interviews. "Boss?" he ventured quietly.

No response. Maybe he'd better try a little louder. "BOSS—"

A few seconds later he stalked darkly back out of the room, wondering where that wine glass had even come from. Fuck. That was three down, now, and he was still no closer to that sweet, sweet cash and the prize that he so desperately craved.

He stopped before the next door in the hallway and considered for a moment. Levi's room.

…Nah, fuck Levi. "No one even gives a shiiiit," he said out loud before continuing down the hall.

At last he reached the door where he knew he would find the sixth and final member of the Varia assassination squad. His one last hope, though he hated himself a little for having to resort to this.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked once and then entered Lussuria's Gay Gym.

It literally was a gay gym and the words were in fact plastered right there on the door, in sparkly all-caps bubble font. Inside, the walls were awash in all the colors of the rainbow and the feathers of many, many peacocks. A huge boxing ring sat in the center of the room under a magnificent disco ball that was also a chandelier (thank you, Xanxus), and alongside one wall was an elaborate bar counter underneath another bubble font sign proclaiming "LUSSURIA'S GAY BAR", and manned by a staff of six strapping employees who never wore shirts. Squalo glanced at the bar's lone patron tonight, and sighed. He had come _this_ close to steering clear of the requisite Levi cameo in this fic.

Doing his best to still ignore Levi's presence entirely, he finally spotted Lussuria and his gleaming pecs, flamboyantly punching a sandbag into dust. "VOIIIIIII!" he called.

"Squalo~~~~~!" said Lussuria, only he included about six hearts that a certain website's story formatting wouldn't let me keep in there. "What a pleasure to see you here~!"

"OH MY GOD," Squalo replied, nearly gagging as the dust from the sandbag started to settle. "PUT SOME FUCKING PANTS ON BEFORE MY EYES SHRIVEL UP AND DIEEEEE."

":)" said Lussuria, although he obliged willingly enough.

"Fuuuuck," muttered Squalo, looking upward to stare directly at the discolier in the vague hopes that he might go blind.

"So, what brings you to my magnificent lair today~?"

_Here goes nothing_, Squalo thought desperately. "Do you have a fucking dollaaaar?"

Lussuria smiled and Squalo felt his hopes soar before—

"Nope~!"

Squalo's hopes crumbled and he suddenly felt like weeping.

"He took my last one!" said Lussuria apologetically, gesturing toward the bar.

Squalo turned, very slowly, and saw Levi morosely nursing an appletini. Something snapped inside of him.

Five minutes later he cartwheeled through the smoking hole he'd just created in the wall of the gym, ignoring Levi's agonized grunts and Lussuria's wails, and stormed back through the hall the way he'd come, seething with rage and cursing the fates.

At long last, he found himself back in the Varia break room again, standing beneath the chandelier in front of the Varia vending machine where it had all begun. Fighting back sudden tears, he gazed at it mournfully.

There they sat… so pure, so tempting, so close and yet so far. Those sweet, sweet Starburst fruit chews.

Oh, how he longed to rip apart that colorful packaging and tear into one of those impossibly sweet candies filled to bursting with flavor and real fruit juice. He needed it, he _craved _it. Passionately, the way a man craves the heat of the sun in the dead of winter, and the warmth of a kindred soul when the loneliness has all but consumed him in the night.

_If only _he had a dollar! Hell, even eighty-five cents would be enough! If only he hadn't blown his entire paycheck on all that film equipment and those blank DVDs. If only there was some way—

—_wait a second_.

"OH MY GOD," he said out loud before whipping out his sword and instantly smashing the machine to pieces.

"_YEEEESSSSS_," he moaned contentedly as he crammed his pockets with delicious Starburst chews. He stuffed about five into his mouth all at once and walked away chewing contentedly.

_Now that's Varia quality_, he thought to himself, giving himself a little mental thumbs up.

Aw yiss.


End file.
